


Empty Mugs and Filled Hearts

by Flygavioli



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But he eventually gets one don't worry, Canon Asexual Character, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I love those boys and I will cry if something happens to them, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Not exactly relevant but it's important to mention, Spoilers up to ep160, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flygavioli/pseuds/Flygavioli
Summary: It's funny how the same scene feels so very different depending on who you are. For Jon, it had been the worst first encounter of his whole life, and God knows he had met plenty of terrible people he wished to never see again. He had barely started his new job for five minutes before a moron with glasses burst into his office, looking for a dog he had accidentally let into the Archives. The scene was surreal, and Jon was appalled when he learned that the man was going to be one of his archival assistants, and that he was supposed to endure his clumsiness and incompetence for the rest of his life as head-archivist.For Martin, though, things had been quite different.--Events happening in the Institute but from Martin's perspective
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Empty Mugs and Filled Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> So, I haven't written anything in like 4 years, but then I discovered TMA in June and look where we are now... This is the first time I write something in English that ins't a 200 word school assignment, so please tell me if you see any mistakes. It's also the first time I use AO3 to publish something, so feel free to point any error in tagging or rating.  
> Okay, that's all I had to say, please enjoy my garbage writing in my garbage English!

It's funny how the same scene feels so very different depending on who you are. For Jon, it had been the worst first encounter of his whole life, and God knows he had met plenty of terrible people he wished to never see again. He had barely started his new job for five minutes before a moron with glasses burst into his office, looking for a dog he had accidentally let into the Archives. The scene was surreal, and Jon was appalled when he learned that the man was going to be one of his archival assistants, and that he was supposed to endure his clumsiness and incompetence for the rest of his life as head-archivist.

For Martin, though, things had been quite different. Of course, the whole dog situation was really embarrassing, but while many people would have wished for all that to never have happened, he wouldn't forget that day for anything in the world. It was stupid, really, but seeing the new archivist for the first time felt like being struck by a lightning. He couldn't say why, but something about the archivist was just… captivating. Maybe the way his grey eyes seemed to be looking deep inside his, scanning, analysing, judging every one of his reactions. Anyway, even if Jon had been cold and distant, even repelled in a certain way, Martin felt something change in his very own being, shifting slightly in a nearly imperceptible way.

He couldn't help but blush whenever he saw Jon, especially when the head archivist finally managed to catch that dog, taking it in his arms, close to his chest, struggling to keep it from licking him. The annoyed look on his face contrasted a lot with the cuteness of the scene. All Martin could do was watch, unable to think about anything, except that it was adorable. Then Tim made a joke, and Jon made it clear he wanted the mess dealt with as quickly as possible while he was retrieving the dog to whatever irresponsible person had let it inside of the institute.

So yeah, _interesting_ first day for everyone. Hopefully, Martin thought, it was going to be the one and only time he embarrassed himself in front of his new boss, and maybe, if he were lucky, they could start again and act like nothing happened. Just maybe.

* * *

"Right, this isn't going to work…" Martin stood up, the cot creaking a little as the weight on it shifted. It had been three weeks since he had moved inside the Archives, and that damned bed, if he could call it a bed, was still pretty uncomfortable. Sleeping was difficult, and he would spend most nights writing and recording poetry until he just couldn't stay awake anymore.

He had always written poetry, or at least since the first time he had held a poetry collection in his hands. It was not particularly good nor bad, but he liked it, so it was all that mattered. He usually wrote about all sorts of things, as long as he felt like it, but lately, everything he put down on paper seemed to revolve around the same subject.

He was well aware of why. It became quite obvious that his crush for Jon was now the only inspiration that managed to come out well as he wrote it down. He spent his time daydreaming about whatever fantasies came to his mind, and then, at night, filling pages and pages of lines about how he felt around him, details of his character nobody seemed to notice, how soft his hair looked, how deep his eyes were, so deep that he felt he could drown in them.

Martin sighed. Once again, he got lost in his thoughts. It was becoming more and more frequent, and if he weren’t careful, somebody would notice. Well, actually, someone _had_ noticed… Tim came to him, joking about him being all distracted, asking who was the one to whom Martin turned all his thoughts. At least, Martin had managed to keep that answer secret for the moment. He just couldn't imagine what would happen if the others discovered his feelings for Jon, especially Jon himself. He knew perfectly what his boss' feelings towards him were, and the idea of losing him because of a stupid crush was worse than anything. The archivist keeping their relationship strictly professional, even if said relationship wasn't great, was still better than Jon completely avoiding him for the rest of his life.

Martin was content with the current situation. Well, not with the whole "hiding-from-a-killing-worm-lady" stuff, but with the fact that he had some kind of family in the institute, something he hasn't had in a long time. Tim and Sasha were his friend, and even if Jon weren't especially fond of him, at least he tolerated him as a co-worker now.

Grabbing a pen, he started scribbling a few words on his notebook, letting his hand wander freely on the paper, guided by the thought of the man he liked, but didn't like him back.

It was hard, sometimes. Being constantly rejected, looked upon with disdain, feeling so unimportant and unwanted. Yet, there he was, making tea in order to make things at least a little better. Trying desperately to be loved by the people around him. To be honest, it was somewhat working. Not as much as he'd hoped at first, but still. His co-worker now accepted him as he was, and even Jon seemed to be less harsh with him in general. Hopefully, things would continue like that, and who knows, maybe even improve…

* * *

"Listen, Tim, there must be a totally normal explanation for…"

"Ugh, yes, Martin, there is. Jon is just a psycho who has been acting suspiciously for the past year, and now he just freaked completely and killed someone! Why are we even surprised?" Tim vaguely gestured in the direction of the dead old man sitting at the archivist's desk, both the man and the desk covered in blood. He was walking around nervously, while Martin was just standing there, still not sure of what to say, do or think.

"This isn't… I'm sure Jon has nothing to do with… whatever happened here." That sentence came out with a lot less confidence than what Martin had hoped.

"Yeah, sure, why don't we ask Mr. Dead Body here? Excuse me, sir, could you tell us what happened?" he said sarcastically before turning to his co-worker. "Oh right, he can't, because Jon fucking killed him!"

"He could never!" Martin said, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

"Martin, please!" The other one said. "That creep spent months spying on us, and suddenly there is a dead guy in his office. The next thing you know, we are next on his list. Now, if you would just listen to me, we must get out of here, find Sasha before she's in danger, and find a way to quit this goddamn job!"

Martin now stood there, unable to move or say anything. He couldn't believe what Tim was saying, he just couldn't. Tim was looking at him with an icy gaze, waiting for any reaction, but nothing came. So, he just headed towards the door, determined to leave this hell of a place to find Sasha. Martin was left by, alone with his thoughts and what seemed to be the terrible truth, though he couldn't accept it. There had to be something, something that would prove Jon's innocence… There had to be. Because if not, his whole world would shatter and break apart.

He glanced one last time to the inanimate body sprawled in the office chair, feeling dizzy, his head drumming and racing a thousand miles per hour. He suddenly felt very sick, as he realized only now the true meaning, the true implications of what had happened. In a quick move, he turned and ran out of the office in a frenzied motion.

* * *

He was back. He was back, and he wasn't a murderous freak. He came back, confronted Elias, made him admit everything: the murders, the manipulations, the powers… But that didn't really matter. No, because now, he was back. Back in the institute, back in the Archives, and back in Martin's life. He couldn't explain how relieved he felt, knowing that Jon was here, and that he was innocent. That was all he could think about, really.

For the past few hours, Martin had only had one thought in mind. But because of all the chaos going on, he hadn't really had the chance to talk with Jon. Or with anyone, actually. A lot happened, and everyone needed time to process. So, he just went into his office, waiting for everyone to be ready to talk. He didn't want to rush outside, a cup of tea in hand, forcing a conversation that might upset his friends more than they already were. He was particularly worried about Tim and Melanie. Tim hadn't been in a good place for a long time now, and the revelations about Elias had just worsened his state of mind. And as for Melanie… Something had changed in her eyes and attitude, something dark and alarming.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, err… Come in?" The door opened, and Jon appeared behind it. He looked tired and hesitant.

"Sorry… Am I bothering?" He asked with a soft voice, nearly whispering. Martin's heart started beating so intensely that he thought someone could hear it from another room.

"No, of- of course not!" He paused a moment. "How… How are you feeling? Are you alright?" Martin mentally punched himself for asking such a stupid question. Of course, he wasn't alright. Nobody was, and Jon was certainly no exception. The archivist laughed a little, a soft laugh full of exhaustion.

"I don't know if alright is the right word, but…" He put himself together a bit. "I'm fine. How are _you_?" He asked, looking deep into the other one's eyes.

"I, uh… I'm okay. I'm more concerned about Tim and Melanie though. Oh, and Basira of course…" Martin was now losing himself into Jon's eyes. When did they become so beautiful? He had never noticed the hints of green hiding in his irises, and how mesmerizing they were. He had changed a lot since they first met. Back then, he looked like an average man who wouldn't really have caught the attention besides his seemingly unfriendly character. But now… His hair was longer, attached in a messy bun, long steaks of black and grey locks falling across his face. His skin, once a unified warm brown, was now covered with numerous marks and scars, reminder of the many hardships he had to go through. Two of them were new, though, and seemed fairly recent. "Have you…" he hesitated, "What happened to your hand and your neck?"

Jon looked surprised at first, like he had forgotten about it and wasn't expecting someone to notice, then looked at his bandaged hand, a bitter smile on his face. "I… Let's just say I made a deal with the Devil and this was her price." When he saw the look of concern on Martin's face, he added: "Don't worry, it's not that bad, really."

"Are you sure?" the other one asked, worried. He pointed the long cut on Jon's throat. "This one looks nasty… I- I have a first-aid kit in the drawer if… you know, in cases like that. I could…"

"It's okay, Martin. I'm sure it's fine." It was obviously a lie, but the shiver and the flash of terror Martin saw in Jon's eyes when he mentioned it was enough to stop him from asking more questions.

For a moment, both of them stood there, silence taking over the room. After some time, Jon started speaking again, eyes pointed to the floor: "Listen, I… I wanted to thank you for what you've done during my absence. And also, to apologize for how bad of a boss I've been until now… I've been really hard on you, and you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

Martin was left speechless. He had NOT seen that coming. For a few seconds, he stayed silent, not knowing how to answer to that, but when he finally managed to think of something to say, Jon continued, going back to his usual serious and dismissive tone again.

"Anyway, I… I won't be coming back to the Archives right now; I still have things to do before that. But I'd be grateful if you would continue the good work here.

"Oh…" Martin tried to hide his disappointment, in vain. "Will you be gone for long?"

Jon shrugged. "I don't know, a few weeks, maybe? It's really hard to tell…" He sounded discouraged.

"Is that what you and Elias talked about? When he kept you in his office after dismissing us?" Martin asked. He was facing the floor, and his arms were crossed in a sad way, hands faintly clenching on the sleeves of his jumper.

The archivist didn't answer immediately. Instead, he sighed.

"Not… Not exactly. But it has something to do with it."

"Sorry, I know I should mind my own business… J- Just, promise you'll take care of yourself."

Jon smiled a little, looking surprised that someone actually didn't want him dead for once, then started heading towards the door, and said: "I'll do my best." When he reached it, his hand still on the doorknob, Martin added:

"Jon?"

"Mhh?"

"I'm glad you're back. I've missed you."

The archivist stopped his movement, and, before leaving, took a very quick look at Martin. He then whispered: "Yes, me too." And left.

* * *

It had been hours since Martin had locked himself away. He was a wreck, and he didn't want or need anyone to see him like that, so he just ran in his office to hide. Besides, focusing on his work helped. When he was working, he wasn't thinking about the rest, so that was good. But even then, deeply unpleasant thoughts kept coming to his mind. So terribly awful he had to refrain from crying. He couldn't help but see what Elias had put directly into his head. All the details, the horror, the pain… Everything was now rooted so deeply in his mind it felt like it had been chiselled directly on his brain. So, he tried to focus on his work, looking for information about statements, checking historical records, comparing data, anything that would require him to concentrate on nothing but what he was doing.

Unfortunately, he couldn't prevent his thoughts to wander, and when he wasn't thinking about his mother, it was the Unknowing that took over his mind. Martin was terrified of what could be happening right now, and not knowing how all his friends were doing - or if they were even alive - was only adding to his dread. He had faith in them, but he couldn't refrain from imagining in what state they would come back. Yet, he just waited here, hoping everything was going to be alright. Because it had to be alright. They had already been through a lot, they had survived two attacks on the institute, and there was no reason for things to be different this time.

And so, there he was, hiding from the cruelty of reality by burying himself under tons of work, ignoring the hours passing by, ignoring his growing fears, to the point where he didn't even realize he was falling asleep from exhaustion. It was a set of gentle knocks on the door that woke him up. He had no idea of how long he had slept, and honestly didn't want to know, but it felt like it could have been days. Melanie came in without waiting for his answer. Her eyes were red, avoiding Martin's, and her hands were clenching the sleeves of her sweater. She looked terrible. The tiniest glimpse of hope Martin had when he saw her was now slowly fading away.

"Basira came back. She managed to get out in one piece, but she's still pretty shaken, and she will need some time to recover. The others… "She paused, trying to find the right words. But there were no right words for what she was about to say. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, she whispered: "They didn't make it."

The office could have burst into flames and Martin wouldn't have noticed. His brain froze, unable to process the words Melanie had just said. _They didn't make it... They didn't make it_? He kept repeating that in his head but couldn't make sense of it. His mind was still hazy from sleep, and he simply couldn't understand. There had to be a mistake.

"They… what?"

Melanie looked at him, rage slowly filling her crying eyes.

"They died, okay?! They blew up the building, and now they are dead. It's everywhere on the news: _'House of wax destroyed: one dead and one seriously injured'_. Tim was found under six tons of wreckage, they haven't even found Daisy yet, and Jon…" She was properly boiling mad now. "Jon has proven he's just a fucking monster!"

Martin was perfectly awake now. He was also terribly pale.

"W-what do you mean?" His voice was shaking, tears threatening to burst at any time. "Melanie, what happened to him, where is he?" he urged, failing to hide his panic.

Melanie glanced at him with a mix of anger and disgust.

"Why do you care about him so much?! Tim and Daisy are dead, and he should be too if he were still human, but noooooo, you prefer to worry about the guy that will get us killed instead." She nearly punched the door out of rage but held back at the last moment. When she saw Martin's look of terror and distress, she inhaled in order to calm down a little. It wasn't working very well, but at least she tried. She knew her co-worker wasn't responsible for what was happening, and he didn't deserve to be yelled at. "Listen, I'm… I don't know how, but Jon survived. Barely."

"Melanie, please tell me where he is!" Martin was trembling.

Melanie, on the other hand, was growing angrier by the minutes.

"I don't KNOW, I don't CARE, and I don't even know why I'm still here! God, I HATE this place!" She screamed while turning back into the hall, nearly running to escape.

Martin was left all alone in the office. He was suffocating, feeling like the more he tried to grasp for air, the less he could breath, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't just stay there, waiting for something to happen. He had to find Jon, to help him, to take care of him like he had for the past three years, and quick. He started thinking about a solution, but the more he thought about it, the clearer and scarier the solution got. He had no choice, really. His only option was to ask to the only person who could _know_. And that terrified him. But it was the only thing he could do.

Martin got out of the office, walking fast through the many corridors of the institute, until he arrived in front of a big, menacing door. It was Elias' office. Before he could even knock, Elias' voice reached from inside.

"There is no need for that, Martin, you can just come in."

The archival assistant felt his body freeze when he heard the voice, still not over what happened the last time he had faced his boss. A shiver travelled all the way through his spine as he entered. Elias was sitting in his chair, frowning, concentrated on some paperwork, not even paying attention to him. He looked like he knew nothing about what had happened, although he obviously _did_ know, and that was all Martin needed to hate him more.

"Where is he?" Martin asked in a dry tone, as calmly as he was currently able.

"Where is who?" Elias answered without looking up from the papers in front of him. The annoyance in his voice seemed far more authentic than his apparent unawareness.

"Cut the crap, you know exactly who."

The head of the institute raised his head, looking directly at Martin. "You know, you should really watch your language in front of your superiors." His tone was cold, sharp, and full of veiled threats.

Martin snorted with exasperation. "Yeah, like I have any chance of getting fired…"

A well-known vicious grin grew on his boss' face, dangerous and threatening. "Fair enough, I suppose…"

"Now tell me where Jon is." Martin was losing his patience.

"And why would I do that?"

"Tell. Me. Now."

Elias sighed. He stood up from his chair, in a nearly solemn gesture, and looked Martin directly in the eyes. "My, look at you Martin. All brave and pugnacious for your precious little archivist. It's pretty pathetic, you know. All these feelings towards a man that is already half-dead, what a waste of energy."

Martin clenched his fists so hard he could feel his nails dig in his palms. "Are you done?"

"Quite." Elias smiled, complacent. "Now, I am rather busy, and I do believe you have no intention of leaving my office without me telling you where to find Jon, am I right?"

"Correct."

"Well, in that case…" A flash of green glimmered through Elias' eyes, as Martin suddenly felt an intense pressure in his head, followed by the piece of information being inserted directly into his brain. He couldn't do anything but take his head in his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. In an instant, he could see everything: the hospital, the corridor, even the door's number. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough to leave Martin panting and shaking, his body and mind still not over their last encounter with that gruesome power.

"You… you could have just _told_ me…" he wailed, "was this really necessary?"

Elias looked at him, satisfied. "Oh yes, Martin, I think it was. Just as a little reminder that you better stop acting up and stay out of my way. Now go, I'm certain you have plenty to do…"

Martin didn't want to obey him, but he simply couldn't stay in that office any longer. He slowly composed himself, and headed towards the exit, not without throwing one last quick terrified look at his boss. Elias was back to his paperwork, once again acting like nothing abnormal had happened. It made Martin sick.

As soon as he was out, Martin's mind came back to him, and with it the reason why he had endured all this. He ran through the many corridors of the institute until he finally was out in the street. The blinding light of the sun contrasted drastically with the raw artificial ones from the institute. He waved at the first cab passing by, and nearly shouted the address at the driver as he climbed on the backseat. His panic was back, and he spent the entire ride on the verge of tears, twisting his fingers again and again while trying desperately not to imagine the worst scenarios in his head. He eventually arrived at the hospital, and a shudder ran through his spine when he saw it. It looked identical to the one he saw when he confronted Elias… and that only made Martin's apprehension worsen. Because it was real now, not just an image in his head, not just a hypothetical that you could dismiss if you didn't like it. No, it was real, and it was terrifying.

Slowly, at first, he took a step forward, his body reluctant to obey his thoughts. The closer he got to the entrance, the more apprehensive he became. Arriving in the main hall, he sped up a bit, ignoring completely the reception desk. He already knew where he was going, the route crystal clear in his memory. Turn right, take the stairs up to the second floor, turn right again, then left, and so on, and so on… For every step he took, his pace increased, and when he finally reached his destination, his heart was pounding, both because of the physical effort and because of dread. The door was standing there, and Martin knew that whatever was waiting for him behind, he wasn't ready for it. After a second of hesitation, he reached for the door handle, and entered the room.

Inside, there was a profound silence, only disrupted by the ticking of a clock and the faint sound of medical devices quietly purring. The light coming out of the widow was warm, soft, illuminating the room with a gentle radiance. It would have been a pretty pleasant setting if it weren't for Jon's inanimate body in the hospital bed.

When Martin's eyes landed on him, he struggled to hold back a sob as he felt something breaking in his chest. He took several steps forward, each of them leaving him weaker than the previous one. When he reached the bed, his legs gave up, and he stumbled on his knees. He grabbed Jon's inert and cold hand, feeling tears slowly rolling down his cheeks.

"No, Jon, please…" he whimpered, voice cracking with sorrow, "You promised…"

He squeezed the hand in his, wishing for any reaction, any sign that would give him even the tiniest glimpse of hope. Nothing happened.

"Please… just… We need you here. _I_ need you." He admitted in a whisper, gently pressing his forehead against the back of Jon's hand. The silence that followed was awfully painful. The clock on the wall kept ticking, the hands slowly making their way around the dial, unbothered by the heart-breaking scene happening in front of them. Martin spent so much time there, crooked at the foot of the hospital bed, that his whole body started aching horribly. Reluctantly, he stood up, grabbed the chair placed in the corner of the room, and sat down after approaching it from the bed. Some time passed, during which he hadn't looked away from the unconscious man before him, praying silently that everything would go back to normal, that the man he loved would be fine.

Exhaustion managed to catch up, though, and soon enough, Martin fell asleep again, hand still holding Jon's.

* * *

Martin kept coming back to see Jon every time he had a chance. The nurses kept telling him not to have too many illusions, that there were very few chances Jon would ever come back, but Martin didn't care. He simply couldn't give up, he needed to believe everything would be fine in the end. He was trying so very desperately to keep faith, but deep down, the fear of a life without Jon grew bigger and more plausible for every day that passed.

Every time Martin came to the hospital, he stayed for an hour or so. He talked, brought statements to read out loud, or simply just waited, praying silently. He had never really believed in God, even though he was raised in a general catholic environment. But he hoped that if there was a God out there, and not one of those horrible Fear Gods, at least there was a chance his prayers would be heard.

Sometimes, during his visits, he came across Georgie. They hardly ever talked much, only a few words here and there, but she was nice with him nonetheless, and she understood what Martin was going through. She also figured out Martin's feelings for Jon pretty quickly. "Only someone who really loves him would willingly try and watch over him", she had told Martin once, "and from what I heard when he was staying at my place, you're quite the caretaker."

Sometimes, when he was all alone in his flat, he couldn't help but cry at the idea that there was nothing he could do to solve the situation. All his life, he had tried to help people, to ease their problems in any possible way, but today, he was powerless.

Sometimes, he thought about the way even his co-workers started to slowly drift away from him, and he could do nothing but watch. Of course, he didn't blame them, they also needed space and time after all the bad things that had happened. But still, it was painful to witness.

Sometimes, he wondered if his existence was even meaningful to someone.

And one day, his mother died.

He didn't know why it hurt so much. He hadn't seen her in a while, she never answered his letters and she barely spoke to him when he managed to get her on the phone. Even after what Elias had shown him, even after discovering how much she despised him, he still couldn't bring himself to resent her. She was his mum. She raised him despite everything.

But she had also spent her last years trying to avoid Martin as much as she could, to the point where she hadn't even told him she was going to die, to the point where she made sure everything about her passing away would be taken care of by someone else. She had organized everything behind his back, and all Martin could do was watch from the outside. During the funerals, he didn't know anyone, and no one knew him. Some people recognized him as "the son", but that was all. No Martin Blackwood, just "the son". He was a mere spectator in a crowd of grey old strangers.

Now, Martin was alone. His life felt empty, without his mother, without Jon, without friends… 

That's when Peter came to him with a "special mission". Martin wasn't an idiot; he knew perfectly it was a bad idea. Yet, Peter insisted, saying a great danger was coming, something so terrible not even the Entities could survive it, unless they prevented it before it was too late. At first, Martin didn't want to listen. He knew that Peter was an avatar of the Lonely, and that becoming his assistant meant he would probably have to become one himself. But then again, he had already lost all the people he loved, he was already incredibly lonely.

After days of hesitation, Martin eventually went to the hospital. Jon's room hadn't changed since the last time he came. The machines were still buzzing, the clock was still ticking, and Jon was still unconscious in his bed, looking like he was simply asleep.

"Hi Jon…" Martin said, his voice shaking. He knew he wouldn't get any answer, but he still had the faintest hope it would somehow help Jon wake up. "How are you?" he asked.

Silence.

"Yeah, same here…" he laughed a bit, a sad laugh. For a moment, he stopped talking, trying to think of something to say. "It's… It's bad all over, you know?" he paused again. "I'm getting by I suppose… Basira's keeping things, taking over, and Melanie is… Well, Melanie is Melanie."

Sad laugh again. He was trying to keep it together, to act like nothing could hurt him anymore, but the silence around him just broke his heart a little more.

"Anyway, yeah, just… Thought I’d stop by. Check in and, you know. See how you’re, um…"

He could do it anymore. He couldn't just ignore the pain, act like everything was fine, like everything was going to magically be solved. He got closer to the bed, falling in the chair he had sat in so many times before. His hand took Jon's, gently caressing his palm with a soft brush of his fingers, in a desperate attempt to fix the situation.

"We really need you, Jon." He said. "Everything’s… It’s bad. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. We… _I_ need you. And I-I know that you’re not… I know there’s no way to…" He was trembling now, tears threatening to burst out. The very idea that, even if Jon woke up right now, there was no chance he would reciprocate Martin's feelings, was heart-breaking. Why would he, anyway?

"But we need you, Jon. Please, just… _Please._ If-If there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or, or some power that you’ve still got, or, or, or something, _anything,_ please!"

He was definitely crying, now. He knew he could do nothing more, that it was over now. His last hope shattered, as well as his heart.

"Please… I can't-"

He got interrupted by his phone ringing. He was surprised for a second, before putting himself together, wiping his tears in a swift motion. He knew perfectly who was on the other side of the line, and what he was going to be asked. He got up and answered the call. As he expected, Peter's voice came through the phone, asking him if he had decided about his proposition, reminding him time was running out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know…"

He had asked Peter to wait, had told him he wanted to be sure about Jon's state before agreeing for something that would surely get him killed. Glancing at the bed, he sighed. He had his answer.

"I'm… I'm actually with him now."

His sadness was fading away, slowly getting replaced by a cold emptiness in his heart.

"You were right…" He paused, listening to Peter faking empathy for him. "I… Will they be safe?" That was all that mattered. He was willing to put himself at risk, only if it meant helping the others staying free from danger. "Okay… Okay, I'll do it."

He could hear Peter rejoice on the other side of the line, telling him he was waiting for him at the Institute.

"Yeah, sure thing." Martin sighed and ended the call. He let his eyes slip one last time towards the unconscious body in the hospital bed, still motionless, lifeless. The void in Martin's heart grew a little bigger. "I'm sorry. Goodbye Jon."

He left the room.

* * *

Another statement, another dead end. Martin grumbled. He removed his glasses from his nose, tossing them aside on his desk, before rubbing his eyes in a frustrated and tired motion. He was exhausted, but if what Peter had told him was true, he needed to continue looking for any clue he could find. He had already been through one near end-of-the-world-situation, and it was more than enough, thank you.

For a moment, he just sat there, listening to the silence in the room. It nearly felt as if there was no one in the Institute at all. He knew that it wasn't true, but it just felt like it. His new office was in the management ward of the Institute, a calm and quiet place, especially since Peter had taken over from Elias. A place where you had no chance of accidentally coming across someone, deserted as it was. All the contrary of the Archives when he started working here. He could remember how noisy, how full of life they were, back when he made tea, when Tim spent half of his time joking around, when Sasha played along while trying to get him back to his desk, when… _No, stop this, get back to work,_ he thought to himself. This was not the time to dwell on a past that would never come back.

To be honest, solitude was getting easier to bear for every day that passed. Now, it was nearly comfortable. He didn't need to worry about other people all the time, to put their needs before his own, to try his best not to be a burden for them… Now, he could be selfish, do whatever he wanted, when he wanted, without the risk of annoying anyone, because there wasn't anyone to annoy anymore. There was something that didn't feel right about that, though, but he didn't care enough to realize it. At least, he told himself, he was helping the others. And if it meant he was to die… Well, that didn't really matter, did it?

His phone suddenly buzzed, indicating a newly received message. Martin growled again. He had asked Melanie and Basira to leave him alone, to not disturb him in any way. They hadn't, to be fair. He had only interacted very few times with them in the last four months. But still, he needed them as far away as possible, and receiving messages wasn't something he considered "staying away" from someone. For a moment, he considered not looking at it, but he knew that it was no use since he would still have to give it a look eventually. So, he grabbed the phone, and looked at the screen. As he expected, it was a message from Basira. He opened the message.

_I'm with Georgie at the hospital, Jon woke up, thought you'd wanna know_

Martin's heart skipped a beat, and he was fairly sure that he stopped breathing at the same time. He read the message again, looking for any secret meaning that would indicate a bad joke, or a misunderstanding. That couldn't be right. Jon was as good as dead; he had been for months and all this was a mistake. It had to be, Martin had mourned and grieved him a long time ago, he couldn't possibly just wake up now…

He realized he hadn't breathed for nearly too long now, and he grasped for air as his hand let his phone fall back on the desk. His respiration was short, irregular, and soon enough he started sobbing. Martin brought a trembling hand to his mouth, trying desperately to muffle the sounds he made, in vain. He felt tears rolling slowly down his now reddened cheeks. It was impossible to know if he was crying out of relief, or out of pain. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, like an old wound that violently reopened, tearing his chest apart.

Part of him wanted to run to the hospital, to run into the arms of the man he thought would never come back, to take care of him and make sure he was okay. He wanted to be there, to feel him alive against his chest. He wanted to see his beautiful face again, the face of the man he had missed so much, the man he had cried so much about, the man he had been so madly and desperately in love with.

That was impossible, though. Because of Peter. Because now, Jon was going to be to centre of attention again. He was going to be in danger again, and Martin couldn't let that happen. The only solution for Jon to be safe was for Martin to keep Peter's attention on himself, at least until Peter got what he wanted.

A bitter thought came across Martin's mind. He needed to stay away from Jon, and given how things tended to end in this place, Martin wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make it in the end, which meant he would probably never see the archivist again. But then, after all, he had already come to that idea when he agreed to become Peter's assistant. He had grieved Jon; it was over. He had accepted his fate and was ready to continue without Jon by his side. Now, he needed to move on, even if it hurt him to do so.

* * *

Everything was grey. It kind of looked like a canvas where multiple stains of grey tones were blending together in a slow, endless waltz. Everything was also cold. Not a freezing cold, more like the faint feeling that doesn’t quite wake you when you sleep, but is uncomfortable enough to disturb your dreams. Far, far away, the sound of waves hitting the shore could be heard. That is, if you were paying attention. It was hard to pay attention to anything here. There wasn’t anything worth it anyway. Nothing but the grey and the cold. Sometimes, in the dancing stains, the vague shapes of what might have once been familiar faces emerged, but they evaporated as soon as they had appeared. This place was odd. Or was it a place? It was hard to tell, and it didn’t really matter.

That was what Martin thought. At least, it didn’t hurt that much in here, wherever he was. The “where”, the “when”, none of that was important anymore. It just felt like he belonged here.

The grey stains continued their never-ending dance, and the sound of the waves remained steady, constant. But there was something else. A sound that wasn’t there before. A familiar voice. He could hear it. It was calling his name. There was something about the way his name was pronounced, something that contrasted so much with this place. Something warm. Something comforting.

“Jon?”

Did he say that out loud? It was hard to tell. He felt tired, and it was difficult to think.

The voice continued speaking, telling him it came for him.

“Why?” Martin asked. Why would anyone come for him? The voice told him he might be lost. That wasn’t true. He was where he belonged, somewhere he wasn’t bothering anyone.

“Are you real?”

The voice confirmed and told him they needed to go away.

“No, I don’t think so.”

The voice sounded surprised and sad. Martin continued: “This is where I should be. It feels right.”

The voice protested, but it didn’t matter.

“Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here.”

The voice protested again, arguing that something was wrong and that it wasn’t him speaking.

“It is, though.” He answered. It was really him. Alone, where he couldn’t do anything wrong except exist. Martin thought about that voice he had heard so many times, that now said his name with so much fondness, a voice he would never hear again. He laughed a bit, more of an old reflex than a real laugh. “I really loved you, you know.”

Then the silence met him. He was alone again, completely. That wasn’t surprising, not at all. It was what he deserved. Why would anyone love him anyway?

The grey aquarelle kept dancing before his eyes, the sound of waves continued, while the creeping cold came back. When did it go away? When the voice arrived, probably, but why? Suddenly, a static rose in the air. It grew louder and louder, heavier and heavier, until it completely stopped. Martin knew that Peter had just died. It was easy to know when you got even lonelier in this place.

The cold faded as the voice came back. It sounded relieved. It called his name again, in that gentle tone. It told him what he already knew, that Peter was gone for good.

“His only wish was to die alone” Martin answered.

The voice dismissed what he just said, and begged him to listen. Martin could feel something settle on his arms. It was warm, and it grabbed him gently.

“Hello, Jon.” He said, not completely aware of the presence before him. Something was slowing his thoughts, and the haze around him didn’t help at all. He could barely perceive the man in front of him.

The voice kept speaking, trying desperately to convince him this wasn’t a place for him. “We need you” it said. “ _I need you_ ”.

The words resonated in him. Those words, they felt so familiar, but they used to never be destined to him. _He_ was the one who used to say that.

“No, you don’t. Not really. Everyone’s alone, but we all survive…”

“I don’t want to just survive!” the voice shouted, cutting him off, anger filling its words. That was also familiar, this voice being mad at him, shouting its annoyance at him. The default response came immediately, Martin got used to it a long time ago:

“I’m sorry.”

The warm touch on his arms shifted, making its way to his face, softly covering his cheeks.

“Martin. Martin, look at me. Look at me and tell me what you see.”

“I see…” The grey stains before his eyes moved faster now, and hints of green appeared in the centre of his vision, just two minuscule dots. But as the static around him rose again, the two dots grew bigger, and slowly, the grey colours left, replaced by warmer colours and the shape of a familiar face. A face he had missed so much.

“I see you, Jon.” He chuckled, incredulous. A knot formed in his throat. “I see you.”

“Martin…” Jon took him in his arms immediately, clenching him like he was going to disappear again. He held him as tight as he could despite being the smallest of the two. They let themselves gently fall to the ground, both of them too tired to try and stay up. He could feel Martin starting to sob, his voice breaking.

“I was on my own.” He whimpered. “I was all on my own…”

Jon’s heart broke as he heard how terrified Martin’s voice sounded. He brought Martin’s face close to his, making sure their eyes met.

“Not anymore. Come on, let’s go home.” Jon offered a hand.

Martin noticed the word _home_ , but he didn’t say anything. He just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. “How?” he asked while taking Jon’s hand. They both stood up.

“Don’t worry, I know the way.” He squeezed softly Martin’s hand, and drew him close to him.

And so, they started to walk, Martin letting himself be guided by Jon. They stayed silent for most of the journey, none of them able to think of anything to say. Martin wanted to, but he didn’t have the energy, and all this could wait until they were out of this place. Maybe it was the influence of the Lonely that was messing with his head, but he couldn’t understand why Jon would risk his own life for him. Even after all they had said to each other, why would he come to save him? Why would Jon care for a man he’d despised since the beginning, a man that was bad at his job, a man that had refused to help him when he found a way to escape from the Eye?

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here. Stay with me.” Jon’s voice was soft, and he tightened his grip on Martin. Only then did Martin realise he had been fading away again, too lost in his thoughts to notice.

It happened a few times again until they managed to get out. Every time, Jon would hold him tighter, whispering encouraging words that flew directly into Martin’s heart. When did Jon become so preventive about him? When did he stop thinking of him as a useless waste of space?

After what seemed like an eternity, the fog around them started dissipating slowly, until they could see enough to know they were safe from the Lonely. They had ended up on empty docks along the Thames. The sun had left its place to the dim light of the moon, and a few street lamps illuminated the empty streets around. The lapping of water near them was echoing in the cold night. Everything looked so peaceful.

Now that they were safe, or at least as safe as the current situation would allow, Martin could take the time to think a little better. His mind wasn’t completely hazy anymore, and he could feel his senses come back fully. Next to him, Jon was getting agitated. He pulled Martin by his hand, leading him towards the city, but he seemed nervous now.

“Here, this way.”

“Jon… Where are we going?” Martin asked, unsure of what to think about the way Jon acted.

“I know somewhere safe. Well… _safer_.” He answered quickly while pulling Martin a little further.

“Why?”

“It’s far from the Institute, thus safer than anywhere here in London.”

Martin released Jon’s hand, standing still in the middle of the way while Jon turned around, confused.

“That’s not what I meant. Why do you do this?”

“Martin, we don’t have time for that, we should really move on. I don’t… I just want you to be safe.” His voice was uneasy, like he was pressed back against the wall.

“But why?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted, as if saying it so loud would somehow make it easier.

Martin stood there, trying to process what he had just heard, whispering: “You… what?”

Jon sighed and ran a hand on his face. He was trying desperately to find a good way to say what he wanted, but only managed to make it more complicated. He inhaled.

“Listen, I… Back when I stayed at Georgie’s, when Elias killed Leitner, I realised how much I had screwed things up with all of you. I was all on my own, and honestly, I deserved it after how I had been around Tim and you. I realised I cared about you much more than I was ready to admit. Then, the Unknowing happened, and when I woke up you were gone. I… I figured out you finally realised how much of a prick I’ve been with you, and that you just had given up on me. And I get it, honestly. Hell, I’ve been such an asshole, it’s only fair that you hate me. But now, after all you’ve been through by my fault, I… I just want you to be safe and-and when you are, I promise you’ll never have to hear from me or those… horrible Entities ever again.”

He paused, looking down to avoid Martin’s eyes. He was sure he had screwed up again, and the silence that met him was only a confirmation of what he feared. When he tried to say something, Martin cut him off.

“God, Jon, you’re such an idiot.”

“Wh-”

Before he could even realise what was happening, Martin closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together. It was warm, and soft, and oh, so sweet. It was something both of them had wanted for so long, but thought they would never get the chance to make it true. Martin could feel Jon relax in their embrace, deepening the kiss, and he couldn’t help but smile softly against the mouth of the man he loved. When they parted a few seconds later, Jon asked: “Martin, I…”

“Shut up, just… Come here.”

He kissed him again, holding him closer like the world around them was going to disappear if he ever let him go. It was so heavenly, and he felt happier than he had in years. Jon moved one hand to Martin’s hair in a tender motion, placing the another behind his neck to pull them closer, desperate for more of that intoxicating feeling.

It went on for some time before Jon slowly broke the kiss, his cheeks darkened, with a shy smile on his face.

“Right then… I suppose that’s… settled?”

Martin chuckled a little, grabbing his hand, interlacing their fingers together.

“I think it is.” He brushed a soft kiss on the corner of Jon’s lips. “I believe you knew somewhere safe?”

“Right, yes… This way.”

* * *

“I’m making tea, fancy a cup?”

“Mhh yes, thank you” Jon answered, still half asleep from his nap. He was curled up on the couch against Martin, wrapped up in a warm blanket. They had spent the entire afternoon in the living room, Martin reading and Jon napping. A little whine escaped him when Martin moved to get up. It was quite a scene to see, to be honest. Jon had never looked as innocent and at peace as now. Martin’s heart swelled at the idea of Jon trusting him enough to let his guard down and allow himself to fall asleep. He still had nightmares, of course, both of them did. They probably would for a really, _really_ long time. But being together like that made it easier. Whenever one of them started drifting into a nightmare, the other one would help soothe the fear, make it bearable.

Martin was in the kitchen, warming some water while looking out the window. Outside, the leaves on the trees were beginning to change colour, switching from green to orange, red and yellow. There were clouds scattered across the sky but the sun was still shining in that special way that made late afternoons in autumn so unique. The hills were casting their shadows upon the valley, forcing the people in the village below to turn their lights on early.

Martin sighed happily. Jon had really found a nice place to settle down. Even if it had taken them a whole week to finish cleaning the house. Martin would never have though he would miss vacuum cleaners so much. Or dishwashers. But at least they had electricity, running water, and a fireplace to warm the cabin a bit.

Something moved outside, catching Martin’s attention. A little black ball appeared suddenly from behind a bush. It swiftly made its way towards the cabin, and ended up jumping on the window sill, right in front of where Martin was standing. It was a cat. It was covered in dirt, but there was no doubt a beautiful black fur was hiding under the coat of grime. It had big green eyes; the type that looked deep into you to make you understand what they wanted. And clearly, this cat wanted to take a look from inside.

“Heh, sorry but I’m not letting you in, buddy.” Martin said, smiling slightly even though he knew perfectly the cat couldn’t hear him from the other side of the window.

When the tea was ready, Martin headed back towards the living room, two cups in hands. Jon had got up, stretching a little in front of the couch, his hair falling softly on his shoulders and over his face.

“Slept well?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Martin offered a cup to Jon, who promptly ignored him to reach for a kiss instead. It was a simple kiss, just a brush of lips against lips, but it was full of love nonetheless. Jon let out a content sigh. Martin chuckled.

“Careful, I nearly spilled tea on you. Wouldn’t want to boil you to death.”

Jon shrugged. “Just another scar for the collection. Besides, I wouldn’t mind trading all these scars for yours…”

Martin scoffed, placed the cups on the table and sat in the couch, inviting Jon to come sit by his side by tapping gently the free space next to him. The other man didn’t hesitate for a second and squeezed himself against him. Martin put his arm around Jon’s shoulders and dragged him closer, pressing a soft kiss on his head, marvelling at how good it felt to just be here with him, far from any danger, how good it felt to be able to love and be loved without fearing for their everyday life.

“I’ve just seen a cat; it didn’t even look afraid of me even though it’s the first time I see it.”

He felt Jon tense just ever so slightly.

“Oh, a cat you say?” He said, trying to act surprised. He was really bad at it.

Martin froze, turned slowly towards his boyfriend and stared at him for a few seconds.

“Please tell me you haven’t fed that cat…”

“I… may have… _accidentally_ placed a bowl with food by the backdoor…”

“Jon!” Martin scolded, incredulous, “Now it won’t stop coming for more!”

“I know, I’m sorry, but…” He looked at the cup of tea on the table, searching for his words. “I couldn’t just let her starve to death!”

“What makes you think she would have starved?” Martin asked. “Apart from the dirt, she looks well fed and…”

The look Jon gave him was saying it all, no need for words.

“ _Oh_ … Yes, of course you did…” Martin sighed.

“Her owners abandoned her when they moved out about three weeks ago. When I first saw her, we had just arrived and you were gone to the village to buy some stuff, so I gave her some of the leftover we had in our backpacks. I didn’t know cats liked cheese sandwiches, by the way.”

There was a moment of silence, where both of them simply looked deep in each-other’s eyes. Martin didn’t have Jon’s powers, but he could clearly see what was happening in his mind right now nonetheless.

“So… You want that cat, don’t you?” He said, tentatively. Jon mumbled.

“Still better than a cow…” he whispered, making sure Martin heard but low enough that it looked like it wasn’t meant to.

“W-What?!” Martin scoffed, half-outraged, half-amused. “I never tried to bring one back home!”

“Well, that’s good, that gives us more space for a cat!” Jon said, faking an argument, but failing to hide the smile on his face.

“I don’t know, Jon, I…” Martin paused, thinking. Then, he grinned lightly, and said, in a nearly innocent way: “I don’t know, you’d have to convince me first.”

Jon turned his head quickly towards him, unsure if what he had just heard was right, but when he saw Martin’s smug face, he grinned as well.

“Oh, but I was planning to…” he said while climbing on Martin’s lap, before slowly pressing their lips together.

As always, it was warm and sweet, and Martin couldn’t repress the contented _hum_ that escaped him. Jon smiled against him, still kissing, and brought one of his hand on Martin’s cheek, cupping it tenderly, while the other made its way through his soft brown hair and down his neck. Martin closed his eyes, more than pleased, and let his hands settle on Jon’s waist, careful not to touch anywhere he knew would make Jon uncomfortable.

When they parted, both still smiling, Jon asked, a little flushed: “So?”

“Mhh, yeah, good arguments… I think I’m convinced.”

“Good!” Jon said, moving again to lay on the couch and rest his head on Martin’s lap.

As usual when he did that, Martin instinctively started fiddling with his lover’s hair, rolling smoothly the dark and grey locks between his fingers, gently massaging Jon’s scalp as he knew would relax him.

“Careful, though…” Martin added, “I will be counting the amount of love you give her, and don’t you dare give her more.”

Jon let out a burst of laughter

“I wouldn’t worry, if I were you. I don’t plan on replacing you.”

Martin chuckled.

“Yeah, sure… You say that, and next thing I know, she’s the one sleeping next to you in our bed.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right, you’ll have some serious competition.”

Both of them remained silent after that, simply enjoying the moment, like they had been enjoying every second they had spent together until now. Right now, everything was perfect, and they were both happier than they had ever been.

“Martin?” Jon asked, breaking the silence.

“Mhh?”

“I love you.”

Martin smiled softly, a pleased sound escaping him again.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooooh boy I sure hope nothing bad happens to these two!  
> Hope you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment if you liked it!


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